


Put a Sock in It!

by Savva



Series: My Dramione [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romantic Comedy, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savva/pseuds/Savva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do House-Elves really want to be free? Hermione Granger is about to find out. A tale about elves, socks and silver knickers. Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy. Romance/Humour . AU. EWE. Rated for innuendoes only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put a Sock in It!

**Author's Note:**

> Written for week four of the GE Malfoy Manor Fic War.
> 
> Prompt word: Aggravation
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> Huge thank you to my beta lwalters5 for editing this story on such short notice. Also many thanks to my friend Glorioux, who is always ready to help and support.

 

 

**_Put a Sock in It!_ **

 

 

The letter from 12 June 2006,

 

_Sir!_

_As of today, June 12, the Ministry's record indicates that Malfoy Manor has five house-elves who haven't been freed as mandated by the thirteenth amendment to the MCR (Magical Creatures Rights) Law dated 1 November 2005._

_Therefore, in order for the Malfoy family household to be in full compliance with the law, your elves must be granted freedom within a week from the date of this letter. If you fail to do so, you will be subjected to a fine in the amount of one thousand thirty-three Galleons per elf._

_Have a nice day._

_Hermione Granger_

_Magical Creatures Equality Director_

 

The letter from 15 June 2006,

 

_Dear Madam,_

_This letter is to inform the Ministry that the process of freeing the Manor's elves has proven to be more difficult than had been anticipated._

_Therefore, in order to meet the Ministry's requirement, I am asking for at least a four-week extension._

_Thank you in advance._

_Draco Malfoy, Esquire_

 

The letter from 16 June 2006,

 

_Dear Sir,_

_After careful consideration, the Ministry has granted you a two-week extension, which means that elves residing in Malfoy Manor must be freed no later than 30 June 2006._

_Have a nice day._

_Hermione Granger_

_Magical Creatures Equality Director_

 

The letter from 19 June 2006,

 

_Dear Madam,_

_I appreciate the Ministry's courtesy._

_Draco Malfoy, Esquire_

 

It was Monday, July 3. Hermione Granger, clad in finely fitted summer robes, sat in her still quite new office. On the desk in front of her rested an opened folder, which she perused, occasionally furrowing her brow. Her fingers irritably twirled one of her mahogany curls as she read her correspondence with Malfoy.

 

Frankly, Hermione was fed up with the pure-blood families' dismissive attitudes toward the new law. Despite the fact that the thirteenth amendment had been passed eight months ago, only a dozen elves had been actually freed. The majority of them were still enslaved, and the pure-blood families were clearly not inclined to cooperate with the Ministry's orders. Hermione felt as though she were constantly knocking on a closed door.

 

"Alright," muttered Hermione, and she let out an annoyed sigh. "Here we go." Taking a quill and a parchment, she began to write. 

 

_Sir!_

_As of today, July 3, our record indicates that Malfoy Manor's elves have still to be freed. Therefore, please remit the fine in the amount of six thousand, six hundred and sixty-five Galleons to the Ministry. The payment is due within three days of today's date._

_Please note that a failure to pay the above amount will result in, but will not be limited to, up to one month in Azkaban. Also, please keep in mind that if the matter of the Manor's elves is not resolved in one month from today's date, you will be fined again._

_Have a nice day._

_Hermione Granger_

_Magical Creatures Equality Director_

 

"Yes!" hummed the witch with a grin. "Swallow this, Malfoy, Esquire." Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Such a peacock," she muttered under her breath. 

 

Done with writing, she waved the parchment in the air, waiting until the ink dried. With one deft movement of her wand, she made a duplicate of the letter and placed the original into an envelope. Minutes later, a Ministry owl left, flying to Wiltshire with the letter carefully attached to its leg, and Hermione turned her attention to a copy of it on her desk. With a pleased smile, she repeated aloud, "Six thousand, six hundred and sixty-five Galleons." Hiding the paper in a file, she chuckled. "Hmm, it certainly should be quite noticeable even for Malfoy's vaults. I hope he’ll spread the word." 

 

Still giggling softly, Hermione delved into her work with renewed enthusiasm. She had tons of it—there still were a lot of magical creatures that she genuinely believed needed her help and possibly were waiting to be saved. Ahh, she just loved her job.

 

Hours later, when the witch was thoroughly immersed in her research, the door to her office was thrown open.

 

"Granger!" Hermione heard an enraged roar. 

 

She lifted her head and was confronted with Draco Malfoy, whose ire made him appear diabolical. This time, his ever-perfect coiffure wasn't perfect at all. In fact, in his aggravation, the blond wizard looked almost as dishevelled as Harry, though his robes were still as impeccable as always. His eyes, blazing with anger, were focused on Hermione, and her letter from this morning was crumpled in his fingers.  _Hmm, he looks good in his anger,_ she noticed _._ She didn't have a chance to dwell on that sudden and unsanctioned thought, however, because the next moment, the furious wizard covered the distance between them with three wide strides. 

 

In a matter of milliseconds, the wizard was near her. Hermione hurriedly schooled her features and braced herself for another hysterical aristocratic outburst. She was used to them. Unsurprisingly, nobody was particularly fond of being on the receiving end of the Ministry's fines.  _Six thousand, six hundred and sixty-five Galleons_  popped up in her mind again. Hermione hid a smirk that threatened to surface at that recollection and focused on the wizard's face. She calmly asked, "What is it, Malfoy?" 

 

The wizard purposely and quite forcefully collided with her desk, forcing ink vials to clash with each other, and hissed, "What is this?" shoving the letter at Hermione. "You and your Ministry with its idiotic laws make me want to..." The blond wizard broke off in the middle of the sentence and clenched his fists. After a calming breath, he tossed something on her desk. "Here, you do it!" 

 

Hermione, being ultimately thrown off kilter by Malfoy's odd behaviour, carefully surveyed the things that had been thrown on her desk. There lay five pairs of brand new, differently coloured cashmere socks. "What are you doing? What is the meaning of this, Malfoy?" asked the witch in bewilderment as her voice climbed slightly higher. A terrible suspicion that Malfoy had gone mental crept into her mind.

 

"Socks, genius. These are socks for my elves, Granger." 

 

"What?" The witch let her fingers discreetly curl around her wand just in case. She was almost positive that the wizard in front of her had gone utterly mad, absolutely bonkers. 

 

"I dare you to go and free my elves, Granger. I figured you are a specialist; you should be able to do it."

 

An appearance of the habitual Malfoy smirk and arched eyebrow, as well as a challenging glint in the wizard's eyes, dashed all Hermione's thoughts of Draco's apparent madness. She could tell that the ferret was up to something. But, an opportunity to give freedom to five elves overshadowed any doubts she might have, and Hermione quickly nodded. She gathered the socks from the desk, stood up and determinedly walked to the wizard. "Alright, Malfoy, I'll do it. I will need to know their names. And, why on Earth did you choose socks?"

 

The moment he had her agreement, Malfoy's demeanour calmed down significantly. He now was eyeing her with interest. "I don't know, Granger." He shrugged. "Because it's classy, I guess. Why does it matter? Nice robes, by the way. Oh, and here are the names of my elves." Draco handed her the parchment. "Now, hold on to me, Granger." He clasped his arms around Hermione's waist firmly. "Enjoy while it lasts," he added with a cocky smile. "Not every day you find yourself in a Malfoy's arms." 

 

Hermione huffed with exasperation, "Agh, Malfoy, go on already. Don't try my patience, if you want to keep those arms of yours still attached to your body." She heard his chuckle, and then he pressed her to him undeniably much tighter than was needed and Apparated them both away from the office and the Ministry. 

 

When they appeared in front of the Manor's front entrance, Hermione immediately broke free from his embrace and took in the sight around her. It was warm but cloudy in Wiltshire. A light drizzle made the air humid, causing Hermione's hair to form wild ringlets around her face. She looked at the Manor's enormous door and hesitated just for a moment.

 

"Are you having second thoughts, Granger?" She heard a mocking drawl. She turned her face to the wizard, who was smirking at her. "Well?" He arched his eyebrows.

 

Hermione shook her head. "You are such a poseur, Malfoy. I don't have time for your eyebrow arching; I am going inside. Are you coming with me?"

 

"Nope, I'll wait for you here, Granger. Good luck." 

 

Draco waved his wand, and the door opened with an ominous creak. Hermione pressed the cashmere socks firmly to her chest and walked into a dimly lit hall. The eerie quietness of the Manor startled her, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Ignoring the prickling sensation that made its way down her spine, Hermione opened the parchment and called, accurately pronouncing each name, "Wrinkly, Dotty, Snap, Silky, K-Kinky?" 

 

_Merlin, what a twisted family_ , she thought.  _Maybe it's just a sick practical joke._ The thought flashed in her mind suddenly. However, five consecutive pops dispelled her doubts. Hermione smiled to the five elves that appeared in the hall and said brightly, "Oh, hello there."

 

********

Meanwhile, Draco sat on a marble bench near the front entrance and waited for Granger to return. It had been an hour since the curly-haired witch disappeared behind the Manor's door, and he began to wonder what was holding her there. Truthfully, he didn't have a clue how all of this would end. He, however, figured that in any case, it would be a win-win situation for him. Granger would either succeed or would finally leave him alone.

 

He hoped that he hadn't aggravated the situation further, but he just had grown tired of trying to deal with the elves and the Ministry, none of whom were cooperating. How, for broomstick's sake, was he supposed to tell Wrinkly, who had raised not only him, but also his father, that he was not a Malfoy elf anymore? News like this could simply kill the poor old creature. Draco huffed with irritation. It had been all Granger's fault, with her foolish, idealistic ideas. 

 

_Actually, Granger looked hot in those flirty robes of hers_. Draco's thoughts suddenly spun in totally opposite directions. The wizard closed his eyes, imagining how much nicer the witch in question would look without her robes.  _Hmm,_  he hummed, visualising the witch's long legs, tiny waist and full, firm breasts. Alas, he was rudely torn from his daydream by an ear-splitting bang. Perplexed, he watched how the Manor's door opened and Hermione Granger literally flew outside, landing in a puddle near his bench with a harrumph.

 

"No socks, Missy!" He heard Wrinkly's voice before the door was shut again.

 

With the witch's skirt caught somewhere around her chin, for a few long and immensely enjoyable moments, Draco had an opportunity to savour the sight of Granger's lacy silver knickers. "Well, well, well, what lovely little knickers you have here, Granger. And come to think of it, it's a shame that they are all wet and ruined, and for all the wrong reasons, I would say." He came closer to her and extended his hand. "No luck with my elves, I gather. Come on, Granger, let me help you." 

 

Hermione frantically fixed her robes and glared at him, ignoring his hand. "Oh, put a sock in it, Malfoy!"

 

Draco elegantly picked up the two cashmere socks that were still miraculously stuck to Hermione's robes and replied with mock earnestness, "Certainly, darling, which one do you prefer—yellow or red?" The witch's eyes darkened, and for a second, he thought that she would kill him right there and right then, or at least seriously injure him. However, to his surprise, the corners of her lips curled up and she snorted. A minute later, Granger's vibrant laugh echoed throughout the Manor's well-manicured grounds. Apparently, the witch's laughter was contagious. Hence, unable to contain himself, Draco began to laugh as well. 

 

Still laughing, he helped her up and cast cleaning and drying charms over the witch's clothes. When their laughter quieted down, he looked at her and said, "Alright, let me buy you dinner, Granger. We need to talk about those six thousand, six hundred and sixty-five Galleons."

 

**_Three months later_**  

 

Hermione sighed and slowly, basking in the silky softness of the bed sheets, stretched her limbs. The sound of the door being quietly opened and closed caught her attention, and she turned to see who was at the threshold. Draco, clad only in his lounge trousers and with a tray full of tasty treats in his hands, sauntered toward the bed.

 

"Morning, babe," he said, kissing her lips slowly as he manoeuvred the tray to the middle of the bed.

 

"Are they still afraid of me?" 

 

"Yep, they don't want to enter the room. I think it's hopeless, Granger. You are the Sock Missy forever now."        

 

 

 

 


End file.
